“The call came just like it does in the movies. I sat in a rocking chair in her room and slid onto the floor as I heard the doctor speak. I stared at this little play clock. I can still see it so vividly — its tiny yellow hands stood still on its pink face. Time seemed to freeze in those moments. I would remember it as the day our life stopped.”

“All throughout her treatment, I asked, ‘Why her and not me?’ Well, someone was listening. It wasn’t until she finished treatment, I took some time for myself. I felt a soft lump in my breast. I knew it was cancer. ‘Whatever happens, please stay positive.’ My daughter with leukemia was ready to take the lead and help me.”

“My husband and I decided to stop fooling around. I loaded up 10 kids, rented a house in another state, and we hit the road. I waited for the final lab reports. I was making sandwiches. I’ll never forget which step I was on, because that’s how they stayed. Pregnant with our 11th baby, the surgeon’s number popped up on my phone. He asked me to walk away from the children. My heart screamed, ‘NOT MY BABY.’”

“A miracle came just days before he passed away. At just 20 months old, our son had only verbalized one word. Dog. Yet, he responded to my wife and I as we laid over his crib, tears falling from our cheeks, expressing our love for him. With absolute perfect clarity, our little boy looked up at us. I held him for the last time. I crave his smile. I miss seeing his eyes light up.”

“The very next day, our teeny little 21-month-old baby girl was diagnosed with leukemia. She was close to death. I watched the terror in her face as she was strapped down. She couldn’t see me, didn’t know I was right behind her. I wrapped her up in my arms. Another major bomb hit our family. My marriage fell apart. I was left single parenting. People say they could never do what I do, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“We stood in astonishment. Prior to this, he’d only known how to say one word: ‘Dog.’ My wife and I leaned in to tell him we loved him. He looked up again and said, ‘I love you.’ We held his little hand, his little frail body in my arms, and begged him to visit us. I asked him to watch over his siblings. We put him in the black Suburban, and watched them drive away.”

“‘Enjoy it,’ a man said, looking at my happy son. ‘I’m enjoying this more than you know.’ Just 6 months ago, I walked into that waiting room with my son closely held to my chest. His bright blue eyes peeked up at me – almost completely covered by a paper face mask. I’ll never forget placing Jameson on the table. ‘Does his belly look too big?’ I asked, concerned. Our perfect, happy, healthy baby boy had a belly full of tumors. Cancerous tumors.”

“‘I’m going to play soccer and baseball in the fall,’ little Joe said, now in post-treatment. I still believed childhood cancer was rare. I even believed the kids who did get cancer would be fine, assuming they were treated at the best hospitals and didn’t have any unusual complications. I didn’t believe kids like mine could get cancer. It wasn’t until I was officially a ‘cancer mom,’ that I would understand.”

“When my son’s best friend passed from cancer, he said, ‘Mom, he spent so much time in the hospital that he didn’t get the chance to be a kid. He didn’t even get to go fishing!’ You see, Jake’s passion is fishing. He’s been doing it since he was 5 and it’s grown to be his absolute favorite activity. ‘Mom, kids fighting cancer should get to fish!’ I told him he should do something about that, and so he did. Ryan made my son feel like he belonged. He wanted to do for cancer patients what Ryan did for him.”

“My husband inquired about the bruising. He was told that, ‘babies just bruise easily,’ and the bump was just a birthmark. Our minds were filled with fear and uncertainty and our stomachs were in knots. Feelings of anger crept up inside of me.”